It takes 64 days to get over you
I stop counting on a cold inebriated night,
the dark forest hanging over my heart
and my footsteps echoing in the shirl silence of a wet hill.
It takes 64 nights to get over you,
64 blue evenings, 64 indigo skies without stars, 64 colorless dreams uneven sleeps, disjointed sleeps, and 64 dreams of forgetting.
I count 64 nights, three encounters with cold metal, two brisk walks in the pelting rain, and one soul standing two steps beside my own body, not yelling your name.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
It takes 64 days to get over you
I stop counting on a cold inebriated night,
the dark forest hanging over my heart
and my footsteps echoing in the shirl silence of a wet hill.
It takes 64 nights to get over you,
64 blue evenings, 64 indigo skies without stars, 64 colorless dreams uneven sleeps, disjointed sleeps, and 64 dreams of forgetting.
I count 64 nights, three encounters with cold metal, two brisk walks in the pelting rain, and one soul standing two steps beside my own body, not yelling your name.
Request permission to use this poem